I was beginning to wonder if Berenice lacked Latin. However, this was the woman who, while sharing the Judaean kingdom with her incestuous brother, had once protested volubly against the barbarity of a Roman governor in Jerusalem; she was a fearless orator who had appealed for clemency for her people barefoot, though in danger of her life. She could speak out when she wanted to.
And now she did. Ignoring Titus studiously, she appeared to override his instructions to keep her mouth shut: “The child was rather quiet. After I seemed to win her confidence, she suddenly exclaimed, ‘Please let me stay here. There is a mad person at home who is going to kill me!’ I was alarmed. I thought the child herself must be crazy. Attendants came forward immediately and took her away.”
To her credit, the Queen looked disturbed by remembering the incident.
“Did anyone investigate her claims?” I asked.
“For heaven’s sake, Falco,” snapped Titus. “Who could believe it? She comes from a very good family!”
“Oh, that’s all right, then,” I retorted caustically.
“We made a mistake,” he admitted.
I had to accept it, since so had I. “Gaia also talked at some length, that day and I believe on a subsequent occasion, to the Vestal Constantia,” I told him. “Would it be possible for you to arrange officially for me to interview Constantia?”
He pursed his lips. “It is thought preferable not to allow that, in case it should give the wrong impression. There must be no suggestion of any specific link between one particular child and the Vestals. We would not want to compromise the lottery.”
That clinched it for me. I had no doubts now: the lottery was not just compromised, it was a cold-blooded fix.
“With Gaia Laelia mysteriously missing, the reception has had unforeseen and rather unfortunate consequences,” Titus said. The food was starting to revive me, but I was still so tired I must have been slow. “It has been seized on by scandalmongers.”
Belatedly, I caught up. “Surely the Queen is not being linked to the disappearance of a child she had only met once, and then formally?”
As soon as I said it, I could see the predicament. Slander need not be believable. Gossip is always more enjoyable if it looks likely to be untrue.
Berenice was Judaean. It was believed that Titus had promised her marriage. He may indeed have done so, though his father was unlikely ever to allow it. Ever since Cleopatra, Romans have had a horror of exotic foreign women stealing the hearts of their generals and subverting the peace and prosperity of Rome.
Titus spoke harshly. “Madness!” Maybe. But an accusation that Berenice was a child-killer-or a Vestal Virgin abductor-was just the kind of ridiculous rumor that fools would want to believe. “Falco, I want this girl found.”
For a moment, I did feel sorry for them. The woman had to go home again-but it ought to be for the proper reasons, not because of some sleaze dreamed up by political opponents. Instead, the Flavians would have to show that they understood what Rome required and that, if he were to become emperor one day, Titus was man enough to face his responsibilities.
To lighten the atmosphere, I said gently, “If I do find Gaia safe and alive, and if it is too late for the lottery, I have just one request-can somebody else have the task of explaining to the weeping child that she will not be a Vestal Virgin after all?”
Titus relaxed and laughed.
Helena, who had been quietly munching the tidbits while I talked, now jumped to her feet and pulled me after her. Visitors were supposed to wait until they were dismissed by royalty, but that did not bother her. Until I was made middle-class, it would not have bothered me either-so I reached back shamelessly for another lobster knickknack. “ He needs to rest,” my beloved told Titus.
Titus Caesar rose, then came and clasped my hand. He had the good fortune to choose the nonfishy one. “I am extremely grateful, Falco.” The one benefit of my new rank was that all my clients were perfectly polite to me. That did not mean the fees would arrive any quicker (or at all).
After his farewell to me, Titus had lifted Helena’s hand. “I am glad to see you here tonight.” He was speaking in a low voice. Helena looked nervous, though not as nervous as I was. “I want you to explain something discreetly to your brother.”
“Aelianus?”
“He applied to join the Arval Brethren. Look; do let him know, they have nothing against him personally. He is well qualified. But there will have to be a period of readjustment after your uncle’s unfortunate escapade.”
“Oh, I see,” replied Helena in an odd tone of voice. “This is a reference to unhappy Uncle Publius?” She meant the senator’s brother, who some time before had unwisely plotted to destabilize the Empire and dethrone Vespasian. Misguided Uncle Publius was no threat now. He was out of it, his corpse rotting in the Great Sewer. I knew; I shoved him down there myself.
“You see what I mean?” asked Titus, eager for her acquiescence.
